The Battles of the Band
by Coolbou
Summary: Merri was just your average girl entering high school, a very typical musician who showed interest in the marching band. But there's something strange about this particular band... and soon it is left up to the band and its color guard to protect their sc


_(A/N: Here we have yet another of my uberbizarre stories. This one's actually, you know, original, for the most part, except that almost every character is based on people I know, just with different names. Oh, and I have nothing to do with NESBA. So yeah… it's messed up. Enjoy, if you can… o_O;; )_

CHAPTER ONE: The Best-Kept Secret

            Merri Sandlin's eighth grade year was more than halfway over. The midterms were out of the way and summer vacation was in sight. It was all downhill from here aside from the weeklong cram for finals, but that was the only thing left for the students to worry about. The only thing… except for high school class selections.

            The lunchroom was in uproar every day as students discussed with each other which classes to take, which levels, which extracurricular activities… it was easy for some and difficult for others. Friends were heartbroken as they made their choices, knowing that they would be separated because of one's needs of an easier class and the other's desire for a challenging year and impressive college application. Merri especially was quite disappointed. She had decided to sign up for solid honors, and all the most advanced classes she could take as a freshman, and she knew she'd be able to handle it all. Some of her friends were in the same position, and they hoped they'd end up with the same teachers. But many of the rest of her friends didn't feel comfortable with that sort of difficulty, so either they signed up for CP2 classes or took a lower class at honors level. Whole groups of friends were split apart just because of what they knew was best for them.

            Merri sat next to her friend in band one day, and between songs they chatted about the classes they signed up for.

            It was a middle school band, so though the eighth-graders had been playing their instruments for upwards of three years, they still had the sixth- and seventh-graders to hold them back from playing anything too difficult. But their director was kind to the better players who constantly complained to him, so every now and then they would be handed a piece of music that had a particularly difficult section in it, much to the chagrin of the younger players. (He also had a habit of throwing chocolate into the group after a good rehearsal, which surprisingly never resulted in broken instruments.)

            That day, Merri and her friend Katlyn were looking over a piece called "Royal March". It was their current favorite, because even if it was exceedingly simple, it sounded great when the band played it – besides, they were quite proud to have memorized it on their first day of looking it over.

            "So which math class did you sign up for?" Merri asked.

            "Geometry," Katlyn replied. "Honors. Dunno how well I'll do, but my teacher recommended me for it, so…" She shrugged.

            "Yeah, I'm in geometry honors too. I hope I do okay… I had a little trouble with a few things this year, but geom's a little different from algebra, isn't it? Deal more with angles and shapes and stuff, right?"

            "I dunno, I've never taken it."

            "Eh. And you're taking band, too, right?"

            Katlyn was silent. Merri glared hard at her friend, who grinned sheepishly.

            "I signed up for food and nutrition instead. I figured I might just get it out of the way in my freshman year. Besides," she added, squeaking playfully on her clarinet, "I'm not too interested in the marching aspect of the high school band. Might do orchestra, though."

            "Nooo!" Merri cried. "You've gotta do band with me! It's gonna be so much fun!"

            "I don't like marching…"

            "But you've never marched! Not really. I mean, we won't do many more parades than we did in middle school, most of the marching is show marching – you know, making all those neat patterns on the field while we play?"

            "I dunno…"

            "C'mon, you can always switch back to your cooking class or whatever it is you're taking. Just give it a try… please?"

            "Eh… fine. I'll go to the band camp, but if I don't like it I'm switching before school starts. Okay?"

            "Yay!" Merri twirled her flute a bit. "I swear, you'll have an awesome time." She leaned over the music stand, peering closely at a few bars and playing them over a couple times. "Blah, that part annoys me. I hate playing low notes on this thing. They sound much better on clarinets and cellos and stuff."

            "I thought you hated strings."

            "I hate _playing_ string instruments. And we all know I suck at reeds." She leaned over and squeaked Katlyn's clarinet to prove her point. "But I love listening to orchestras. Especially cellos and the base. The violins, though… they tend to squeak more than a clarinet. When _I'm_ playing it," she said in response to Katlyn's insulted expression. "C'mon, you just heard me…"

            School ended, and official schedules were sent out. Merri called Katlyn the day she received hers in the mail, and they compared them over the phone. Aside from band, they had geometry and English together, which they were quite happy about.

            "_By the way_," Katlyn said when the initial excitement subsided, "_I got a call yesterday from the clarinet squad leader in the marching band. We've got a meeting on Monday._"

            "Really? I haven't gotten a call about it. With my luck they're probably trying to call right now."

            "_Yeah, probably. Well, I'm gonna go – I'm almost done with my third summer reading book._"

            "Oh yeah!" Merri cried, smacking herself on the forehead. Katlyn giggled at the sound. "I'm only halfway done with my second. I guess I should get going. But you know what they say, 'all reading and nothing else takes away from Merri's game time.' I hafta split up my time very carefully or I won't finish this game before the sequel comes out next week."

            "_Yeah, yeah, you and your videogames. But if you finish your books and essays right away, you'll be able to game all day, nonstop. Think about _that."

            "Oh, don't worry, I'm all set. Okay, then, I'll let you go – see you Monday?"

            "_Yeah. See you then. And no, I won't let you squeak my clarinet_."

            Merri snickered. "Y'know, that could _so_ be mistaken for some bizarre sexual innuendo."

            "_Ah, shut up._"

            Merri hung up and glanced at her bed, where Watership Down had been carelessly tossed after that morning's reading session. Her mother had finally convinced her to read it after years of trying. With a sigh, Merri looked at her TV, where her videogame was paused, the main character in mid-leap.

            She decided to ignore the rabbits and their book and snatched up the game controller.

            Monday came, and Merri overslept.

            "Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap," she chanted, as she did every time she was late for something. She managed to find a clean t-shirt but had to pull on the shorts she'd been wearing for three days straight. After finding a pair of matching socks and the shoe that had mysteriously ended up deep under her bed, she ran out the door to the car, barely remembering her flute.

            "Doesn't it figure that I'm _late_ on the first day the freshmen meet the rest of the band?" Merri muttered. Her mother said nothing, knowing that it was unwise to interrupt Merri's discontented mutterings. "Talk about a bad first impression. What if they already started and I walk in and everything stops and they _stare_ at me? Man, that would just suck."

            As the car pulled up closer to the school, Merri was struck by its enormity, more so now than the times before, since she would be going there that fall. In a flash, her mind left the band and went straight to school.

            "Holy crap," she whispered. "What if I get _lost_!? Look at that thing! It's the third largest building in this town. Oh, I am _so _getting lost this year. _So_ lost."

            "Well, you'd best get out now or you'll be even later," her mother said.

            Merri jumped out of the car, tripped over her left foot, nearly forgot her flute again, and sprinted toward the door.

            She was hit with a blast of cold air as the heavy door swung closed behind her with a quiet click. The main office lobby of the school was huge and high-ceilinged, with colorful patterns on the tiled floor. There was a display of various art projects in one corner, and several cases lined one wall, each detailing various clubs and sports teams. Merri slowed down as she passed them, then spotted a clock and realized that she had only two minutes to find the band room.

            Glancing at the back of her hand, where she'd written the room number, she glanced at the signs on the walls to find out which room numbers were in which hallway. Finding the correct one, she sprinted down until she found room 1123. She paused briefly, looking at the door that, unlike every other one in this hallway, had no window. Hoping it was the right one, she glanced up and down the hall, and then turned the handle.

            There was no room beyond the door; she saw nothing, only a staircase. But Merri could faintly hear drums and other instruments coming through the door at the bottom. So she bounded down the stairs, her flute securely tucked under her arm. Again there was no window in the door, but clearly it was the right one; the sound of the snare drum was unmistakable. So she turned the handle and went in.

            It was a huge room, lined with shelves completely full of trophies and plaques dating back to 1967. In the back of the room, behind stacks of chairs and neat rows of music stands, were several racks full of black, military-style uniforms. There were two semicircles of chairs and stands, where most of the students were sitting. Katlyn was sitting among the other clarinets, looking quite nervous, her instrument still in its case.

            Merri dashed over, crouching beside her friend. "Man, look at all those awards!" she whispered. "It's crazy, isn't it? I mean, wow… there's so many."

            "Yeah," Katlyn replied. "And the band's huge. But something feels weird, doesn't it?"

            "Hmm…" Merri looked around more closely. "Yeah. Can't really say what, though."

            "Hey!" an older girl shouted, waving at Merri. "Flutes over here!" With a grin at her friend, Merri got up and sat with the other flutes.

            "Sorry," said the girl that had called her over, "but it looks like you'll be the only freshman here today. Kylie here was supposed to call everyone, but apparently she _forgot_. It's great that you found out though. I'm Kerra, by the way. Squad leader of the flutes and squad captain of the band."

            "I'm Merri."

            "Merry?" asked the girl named Kylie, bouncing excitedly. "Is it short for Meriadoc?"

            "Meriadoc…?" Kerra looked quizzically at Kylie. "I've never heard a name like that."

            "Yeah, you know, Meriadoc Brandybuck?"

            Merri grinned. "I am shocked that you should mistake me for a hobbit," she said to the noticeably shorter Kylie. "No, my name isn't Meriadoc, and besides, I spell Merri with an 'i', not an 'e'."

            "So anyway," Kerra said, cutting off Kylie's reply, "I should probably give you a quick rundown of what to expect in this band.

            "First off, it's great that you have your own instrument. You'll be using that for practices and most of the concert band season, when we don't' have to march. But you'll be assigned a show flute that you'll use during the fall, when we march."

            "Ohh, you'll love the show flutes!" Kylie cut in excitedly. "They're all – "

            "Don't cut me off, Kylie!" Kerra rolled her eyes and groaned a little before continuing. "We'll have two more practices this summer before band camp starts, when we teach you the basics of marching, et cetera. You're expected to work hard, so – " She stopped and looked up.

            Merri looked up as well, and saw what had to be the director of the band. He was a nice-looking man, but clearly the type who would let nothing stand in the way of business. He was sitting on a high chair in front of a rather fancy stand, right in the front of the room. On the stand before him were several music scores, piles of schedules, a small electric tuner and a metronome. He was holding up his hands, patiently waiting for silence.

            "Thank you," he said when the entire band was looking at him. Merri glanced around quickly and noticed several kids that she recognized: one of the trumpets had been in the middle school band with her and Katlyn; an alto saxophone she'd known for two years; and a clarinet that had been in her fifth grade homeroom.

            "My name is Stephen Waugh," said the director. (Many of the upperclassmen jokingly responded, "Hi, Mr. Waugh," as though they were meeting him for the first time.) "First and foremost, I would like to welcome all freshmen to the Castle Rock High School Marching Band. We're in for a great year, I know – we have many talented newcomers, if what I saw at the last middle school concert was any indication.

            "Now, you all need to know something very important – we are nothing like the marching bands you hear about. We are _not_ your typical marching band. Although we will occasionally participate in regional competitions, our main focus is in a lesser known organization, a rather underground series of competitions…"

            He gestured to one of the larger trophies. The plaque at the bottom said:

NESBA-B REGIONAL FINALS

CHAMPION

            The plaque went on to give the ratings of various aspects of the band's performance, all of them at the top of the scale. But Merri had never heard of "NESBA-B", so she squinted her eyes to look closer at the organization's full name.

            "New England Scholastic Band Association…" Her jaw dropped. "Battle!?"


End file.
